


Chimes

by Requiem_For_Rose



Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Christmas, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:15:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28295892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Requiem_For_Rose/pseuds/Requiem_For_Rose
Summary: Rhosh finds out that Christmas doesn't have to be a completely miserable occasion. Written for Tumblr's Secret Santa 2020.
Kudos: 2





	Chimes

If there was one thing that Rhoshamandes knew for certain, in his six-thousand-year experience, it was that spending the holidays alone was not ideal. Of course, the rational part of his brain argued with that. He was older than this Christian holiday of Christmas by about four thousand years. 

Give or take.

As much as Rhosh had a general disdain for overly ornate Christian days of celebration, it was hard not to feel lonely. He was lonely. He felt a deep, almost mortal, aching in his chest, as he walked past the countless storefronts, displaying gaudy displays of lights and fake snow with pictures of mortals so deeply in love with each other, exchanging gifts or chasing each other in the snow. 

With gritted teeth, he trudged through the snow, choosing to walk home the mortal way rather than take the unnatural way of flight. The loneliness was painful and tiresome. That wretched Prince was right; he was doomed to walk among his brothers and sisters with the Mark of Cain upon him. An invisible marker that none could see, but they could nevertheless detect in a subconscious way. 

Had he ever felt this way before? Surely he must have, but he always had someone with him. A companion. Against this will, Rhosh thought of Allessandra, Eleni, and of course, Benedict. Blessed Benedict. 

Rhosh blinked in slight surprise as he stood outside the door of his penthouse. He hadn’t realized that he was home already. What an awful mortal muddle! Having no sense of where he was or where he was going! He might as well just go sit out in the sun at the rate he was going!

Fighting off the disgust that he felt for himself, Rhosh hung up his exquisite fur-lined traveling cloak. His eyes fell to the Thomas Tompian clock on his fireplace mantel. Five until midnight on Christmas Eve. If he tried, he could hear the sounds of the choir coming from the Midnight Christmas Mass. Under normal circumstances, he might have found it beautiful, but not now. Not after everything that happened. It only reminded him of his fickle fledglings. Proclaiming their love and devotion to him from the top of a mountain but leaving his side the second that damned Prince offered them something shinier than Rhosh had ever been able to give. 

The light and delicate chime of the clock made Rhosh look up. Midnight. Christmas Day. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. His fledglings bursting through his door? His penthouse bursting into a big ball of flames? To be honest, Rhosh himself wasn’t even sure which he would have preferred at this point. 

He settled back against his armchair watching the flames of the fire. Amazing how his prenatural eyes could detect the individual colors of the flames—reds, oranges…even some blues and violets. 

Suddenly Rhosh startled as he heard another chime. What in the…? The doorbell? Making his way with a mortal’s speed to the door, he tried not to bare his teeth. Gods help the poor fool ringing his doorbell at this hour and right in the middle of his feelings, as mortals would say! He was in his feelings! Isn’t that what mortals said these days?

He braced himself and opened his door in a mortal fashion. Despite what the Prince and his sycophants at his so-called Court believed, Rhosh wasn’t an uncultured brute. He could be a gentleman. As the door opened wider, Rhosh felt his throat catch again. This time it wasn’t out of anger or loneliness. But it was from another strong emotion that Rhosh wasn’t sure he could place. 

Standing in the doorway were his…his, not Lestat’s, fledglings. Beautiful and blessed Benedict, looking just as lovely as that little urchin Armand. Snow was still melting in his golden hair and he looked every bit as angelic as a Caravaggio painting. Standing beside Benedict were his Sisters in the Blood. Alessandra, looking as regal as ever, her usually somewhat haughty expression, looking tender. Beside her was lovely Eleni, looking like a sweet Elfin Princess. She gave him a dazzling response. 

He tried to find his voice, but he couldn’t. He was speechless. He knew what he wanted to say, but the words were stuck in his blasted throat! 

Sweet Eleni stepped forward and gently grabbed Rhosh by the elbow. Benedict took up his other side, and Alessandra followed behind them, quietly closing the door. 

Finally, Rhosh found his voice. “Y-you’re here?” He didn’t mean to stammer, but by gods, it was like they heard his yearning for them. Except they couldn’t! Rhosh glanced at the clock again, and then he glanced out his window. Even in the darkness, he could see the snow falling outside at a steady pace, its brightness a nice contrast to the blanket of darkness that spread out. 

“We are here.” Alessandra smiled serenely at him. 

“No one should have to spend Christmas alone,” Eleni told him, her light voice like a sweet wind chime. 

“Merry Christmas, Rhosh.” Benedict whispered, a small secret smile lighting up his angelically beautiful face. 

Rhosh felt tears burn against the corner of his eyes.  
Behind him, he heard the clock chime.


End file.
